I don't own it and all that jazz...
So I have pretty much fallen in love with the idea of Maka and Soul. And whilst I'm writing a longer fic I decided to have a little bit of fun dabbling with a short ficlet. Seven moments for Soul in which love may have come into it.
Seven
Seven moments in which love may have come into it...
1
Maka doesn't even bat an eyelid the first time they hunt together and the scent of a soul permeates the winds current enough to make him salivate from the mouth. The smell juicy and ripe and enough to make him imagine swallowing it down in one slick swallow.
Instead of grimacing, Maka chooses to smile; muscles bunching tightly ready to run as if holding him heavy in her grip as her weapon is the easiest thing she's ever done.
2
She's quiet when she interrupts him that first day playing on the piano. Enough to make him think that she's really listening to him play, absorbing the music the way that he expects people listening to do – and they never live up to his expectations.
At the end of his piece she claps once and smiles, a small hand on his arm as if she can fit all of her thoughts into him through something as simple as touch.
3
Maka studies as if the world might depend on it, books upon books of knowledge swimming in her head. Sometimes she'll come home late at night, the smell of dust and old pages thick on her skin. The words that she's absorbed filling her mouth and ready to fall from the tip of her tongue.
She'll repeat them to him at night as he half listens, falling asleep as she whispers in his ear.
4
Right before he changes into her weapon, when their palms touch each other, skin to skin and soft; and so in tune with each other that it's as if they're dancing.
5
He comes out of his room in the morning ready and dressed, and Maka looks to him with her mouth turned in a puzzled line. Taking a step up to him, her fingers reaching up to grace his forehead with a feather light touch; smoothing his hair back into place as if she's the only one who knows how the right pieces of Soul fit together.
6
After first meeting her Father and seeing the depth of Maka's fury, Soul had simply asked her why. His voice quiet as if he knew that he shouldn't really be asking. Maka had turned to him with barely held sadness in her eyes.
"Because he stopped loving my Mother." A pause as if she needed to catch herself and then, "Or maybe he never did." And then a slow smile curled onto her lips as if a ribbon was unfurling.
7
Soul can't see her through the blood dripping through his eye. He can taste the fear though, sharp on his tongue and crystallizing in the air. His hand on her chest as he feels her heart beating in the palm of his hand; melting into him as if his own might rely on the same rhythm to work.
His chest is tight and almost painful at the thought of the beat stopping, the music coming to a close.
End
Comments and crit are much appreciated.